


Succubus! Reader

by tatterwitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Mild Gore, Swearing, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:32:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is a succubus who preys exclusively on those men who are tainted with evil and dark deeds.<br/>On her latest feeding, she is interrupted by the Winchesters who are intrigued by the succubus with a conscience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Eh. It's kind of rushed and it's not the best, but I wanted to get it all down before I forgot any of the ideas I had.

Hunger was gnawing its way through your belly.

It'd been a week since you last fed. You'd stretched the time as much as possible while you tracked down potential meals.

Being a succubus wasn't as great as everyone made it sound. If fact, it was down right awful sometimes. Yeah, it had its perks, but the pitfalls were hell to navigate. Most succubi were raised knowing about their natures. Of course, most succubi were nasty, bloodthirsty, back-stabbing wenches.

You'd grown up in a happy little suburban family. Nice house, white fence, yappy dogs, the whole nine yards. It'd been great. Until you hit high school. Things started to change in you. Your body changed, becoming more...well, more. You were the center of attention, the most beautiful girl in the entire school.

Sure, it was great when you ran for prom queen. At eighteen, the hunger started. Food began to make you violently ill. The doctors dismissed you when they found nothing wrong. It had been all you could do to slog through the school day. Day by day, the hunger grew. That fateful day, you had run into the captain of the football team, Brayden Hayes by the bleachers on the field. Despite the pain in your body, you'd accepted his advances because...Hello? Football team captain, remember? Imagine your shock when your lips met his and you turned into a voracious beast. You'd come to leaned over the boy's lifeless body. His mouth was bloodied and his body gaunt beneath his letterman jacket. His blood was smeared over your face and the hunger pains had vanished.

From that point on, you'd been on the run. You'd met other things on your travels; spirits and demons, incubi and succubi. Even a vampire. Between conversations and...favors, you learned about your kind and your latent abilities.

Pain lanced through your body as you entered the bar. Your meal tonight came _a la_ wife beater.

You'd watched over the hospitals and police reports in the area for days. A few cases had stood out and you decided to start with the nastiest first. Mr. Thomas Ragden's wife had been admitted twice this week alone. Once for stitches from "falling on a broken glass" and a broken wrist from "tripping". Your night-canvass had left you with zero doubt about just how much of a scum-bag Thomas was.

And so, dressed to kill in a short black dress, leather jacket, and tall high heeled boots, you sauntered into his favorite watering hole. You smiled at the bartender as you perched beside Thomas' usual seat at the bar.

"I'll take a glass of red wine, if you have it." Alcohol was pretty much the only human food could stomach. Most of it didn't taste half-bad, either.

The glass was set atop a napkin before you. "Thanks."

You endured two hours of countless pick-up lines and 'come back to my place, baby's.

At quarter past eleven, Thomas stumbled through the door. His eyes were already bloodshot and his hair stuck up on one side. He reeked of alcohol and anger as he sat beside you. You could feel his eyes sliding over your body. You suppressed a shudder at the unclean, oily sensation.

"Beer." He tossed the word at the bartender as he turned his stool to face your's. "Well, what's a tall drink of water like you doin' in a place like this?"

You swirled the wine in your glass and glanced over with a saccharine smile. "Just trying to forget about someone."

"And who might that someone be?" Thomas tipped his head back as he swallowed.

You pretended to be lost in thought and then giggled. "Guess it worked."

Thomas laughed with you.

After fifteen minutes of buttering him up, you were getting ready to go in for the kill. The bar doors opened again and a familiar scent hit you.

 _Demon blood_.

As Thomas' hand snaked up your knee, you cast your eyes up under your lashes. Two men walked over to a table and sat. One had lighter hair than the other, but from the similarity of their movements and features they must have been related in some way. The smell of blood clung to them, though. A chilly finger skimmed down your spine. Hunters.

Looked like you'd have to eat and run.

You turned to Thomas again and ran a finger along the seam on this thigh as you bit your lip.

"What d'you say we go have some fun, big boy?"

A disgusting grin bared his teeth as he stood and slapped a few bills down on the bar. "I won't say no to a gorgeous thing like you."

Oh, _gag_. You took his hand in your's and let him lead you past the hunter's table and through the doors.

He turned down an alley way and then again. You glanced around. The area was deserted. Concrete and brick was slick with wetness from rain. Trash dotted the ground by murky puddles. Biting your lip, you looked up at him from beneath your lashes.

"Nice and secluded here, huh?"

Thomas grinned and reached for you. "All alone out here."

"Good," You grabbed his jacket lapels and shoved him up against the brick wall. His eyes narrowed with anger as he attempted to lash out.

He made a fearful sound when your superior strength prevented him from going anywhere. "You've been a bad, bad boy, Thomas Ragden."

"H-how do you know my name?" You leaned in close and allowed your hunger to show in your eyes.

A faint squeal of fear echoed off the walls and you crushed your mouth to his. The energy of his lifefource immediately began to seep into you as you breathed in. After a second, you pulled away. Thomas was gasping for air and shaking.

Blood misted from his mouth as he breathed. "P-please d-don't kill me. I-I'll do anything!"

You smiled. "Oh, I know. That's why you're never, ever going to lay another finger on your wife in anger."

Again, you kissed him. He struggled feebly before you retreated again.

"Swear it, Thomas-" Something clicked in the darkness.

You stiffened and turned your head slightly. The two hunters stood at the mouth of the alley, guns cocked and pointed at you. The lighter haired one's chin tilted up.

"Let him go, you bitch."

You mock-winced at the name. "Just a minute. Thomas and I were having a very meaningful conversation about him and his wife's relationship."

You switched your gaze to Thomas. "Weren't we, sugar?"

Thomas blubbered, blood and saliva leaking from the corner of his lips. "Please-"

You kissed him again. "Hey!" When you pulled back Thomas was nodding vigorously. "I s-swear. I-I w-won't touch her a-again."

You took a step back and jerked sharply on his lapels again. "If I hear that you've gone back on your word, I'll find you. And I'll finish you." You puckered your bloodied lips at him.

With that, you shoved him away from you and sprinted for your life. Heavy footsteps rang out behind you as you vaulted halfway over a chain-link fence. With a grunt, you rolled and came up running on the other side.

A gunshot sounded and you jumped as the bullet grazed your side. You turned the corner sharp and barelled into a solid wall of chest. Arms banded tight around you as you struggled wildly.

You slammed your heel down on the hunter's foot and rammed your elbow into his stomach. He doubled over, grunting, arms loosening. You broke free and brought the side of your arm down on his back. When he hit the ground like a sack of potatoes, you tensed to run again.

A gun cocked again and you were looking down the barrel of a pistol.

"Well, fuck." You spat.

"Something you're good at by the looks of it." Green eyes raked over your body and you raised you hand to smack the gun away. "Oh-ho, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Something heavy smashed into the back of your head and blackness consumed your vision.

 

 

 

You came to with a groan and hunger gnawing again.

You'd barely gotten a snack out of Thomas in the alley. Your mouth tasted like blood and dirty gym socks. When you tried to raise your hands and rub your eyes, something restricted your movement. Shiny silver handcuffs inscribed with markings wrapped around your wrists. You could see the metal edges as you glanced down.

Your arms were pinned behind you. You cast your eyes around. A snort left you. A Devil's trap was painted into the floor in red. Even if you could break the cuffs you weren't getting far.

A door opened. The two hunters from earlier entered with a companion. Blue eyes regarded you with no small hint of distaste. Something about the newcomer had you feeling increasingly uneasy.

You switched your gaze to the hunters. "Any particular reason why you've got me all trussed up like I'm a big bad?" You shook a loose chunk of hair from your eyes. "Not that I don't blame you. I am _super_ pissed at you two right now."

You shot a look at your jacket where the bullet had torn through. "This was my favorite jacket."

"Can it, lady." The one with the lighter hair stalked closer.

You narrowed your eyes at him and looked him dead in the eyes. "I've got a name, you ass."

"Did I ask?"

"No, but I'll give to you anyway since you're pretty." You winked at him. "It's Y/N. I like it better than 'lady' or 'bitch'."

The taller, darker haired hunter shifted his stance. The blue-eyed man suddenly spoke up.

"I suggest killing her as soon as possible. The succubus' hunger was not sated and still grows. If you keep her here she will seduce you into releasing and feeding her."

"Cas, did you just say _succubus_?" The lighter haired hunter narrowed his eyes. "Aren't those demons?"

You rolled your eyes. "We're a subset of demons. The white trash, if you like. Not as powerful but not helpless."

"She is dangerous nonetheless, Dean." Cas said.

"He's right." You assented. "Two days from now, I won't have a choice in whether or not to snack on you cupcakes."

The one named Dean shot a look at you. "What?"

You rolled your shoulders as a hunger pain hit. "The hunger will make me loose my control. I'd have you begging at my feet for me to feed off of you then. I wouldn't mean it, but I also wouldn't be able to stop myself. And you probably wouldn't survive."

"Cas?" Dean turned to the other man.

Cas nodded as he studied you. "She speaks truthfully. Although it is odd. I've only known succubi and incubi to be deceitful."

"That's 'cause I don't get my jollies being a nasty-ass scumbag." You pulled at the cuffs. "Can we at least take these off? My hands are going numb. I'd hate to lose them."

"Fat chance." But Dean's eyes flicked back over to Cas.

The other man's head tilted as those eyes bored into you. "She would still be trapped by the markings."

"She is right here and can hear you." You rattled the cuffs again.

Dean popped a key into the lock and then darted out of the circle again as you worked your wrists through the metal bracelets. You rubbed out the chill and sighed.

"Thanks."

Cas took a step closer. "You are most unusual for one of your kind."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Your lips inched up in a reluctant smile. "Now, while I'm stuck in this fly-trap, wanna play twenty questions or something?"

You wiggled your eyebrows at Dean. His mouth curved a bit and he pointed at you.

"You know, if you didn't kill people for a living, I'd like your smart-mouth more."

"I could say the same of you, hunter. And I don't kill when I feed."

The tall, dark-haired hunter watched the proceedings with growing confusion. "I thought that was just how your kind-"

You folded yourself down on the floor and peered up at the towering men. "Yeah, well, I'm sure it's how the others were raised by their lovely mom and pops. I had to learn the ropes all by myself."

"You were raised as a human?" Cas seemed intrigued.

"Yep. Imagine my surprise when I hit puberty and started craving guys. And not in the good way." You picked at your fishnet stockings. "Scared me shitless the first time."

"How old are you?"

"Just Y/A." You flipped your hair over your shoulder. "Just a baby by demon standards."

Dean stalked around and pulled a chair from beyond the doorway. He sat just before you. "We're gonna ask some questions and you're gonna answer them truthfully."

You sat up straighter and gave him a mock salute. "All right, scout's honor."

"What do your kind feed on, exactly?"

"The energy, or life force of a human of the opposite sex. Do I get a cookie?"

Dean shook his head at you. "Have you ever killed while feeding?"

"Yes. The first few years. I've learned to control how much I take now. I'm years clean."

"What about weaknesses?"

You tapped a nail against your chin. "Same as your lower class demons. Iron, salt, traps. Although, from what I've learned, we're only part-demon. Excorcism will just kill us. We've got souls, that'll rip us clean from our bodies and send us packing either upstairs or down."

"I've known one of your kind to ascend to heaven," Cas said.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence." You sat forward and eyed Dean. "Keep 'em coming."

It was hours later that the three of them finally left. The door closed after them and the light disappeared with it. With a sigh, you laid out in the Devil's trap. The cold from the concrete sank into your skin and bones as hunger snarled and burned in your limbs.

 

 

 

The next day passed much the same way. Dean and Cas and the one you'd learned whose name was Sam questioned you in intervals. Night fell and you were left alone.

The hunger was worse tonight. It gnawed at your muscles and belly. You tried hard to keep the waves of want trapped beneath your skin. These hunters had been surprisingly good to you. You found yourself unwilling to use your powers of persuasion against them...Even for freedom.

But it was freedom you needed. Or everyone in this place was going to end up dead.

The first wave seeped through your skin and you sat up, getting ready. Quiet footsteps came a few minutes later. The door opened and Dean's silhouette stood out against the yellow light of the hall.

Another wave had him striding across the floor to the edge of the circle. A frown marred his face as he fought against your power. His will crumbled when your fingertips brushed his cheek.

"Dean," Your voice was low and husky as you spoke. "I need you to break the circle."

The hunter pulled his gun from his waistband and fired a shot into the floor. A chip of concrete flew up, creating a thin gap in the red lines. You stepped free and gently touched his temples.

"I'm sorry, Dean. You have to sleep now." With the command, he dropped to the floor.

You sprinted through the door and followed the hallways. Exit, exit, exit... There! Great doors of black metal waited at the end of a room.

Something slammed into you as you ran for them. Sam rolled and came up swinging. "Where's Dean?"

"He's fine! Sleeping in my cell!" You ducked and finally managed to land your hand against his cheek. "Sam, I'm sorry, but I need you to tell me how to get out of here."

He glared at you as he gave you directions. His slight resistance piqued your interest. "Sorry, Sam. Sleep."

He too, slumped to the ground.

The night air was cool against your skin as you finally exited the place. You ran until your lungs burned and the lights of a city shone ahead. There was a faint flapping noise behind you.

Hands snatched at your arms and yanked you to a sharp halt. You flattened your palms against Cas's cheeks as he tried to hold you at an arm's distance.

"Let me go. Do not follow me." You voice practically vibrated with how much oomph you pushed at him.

"That will not work on me, Y/N."

You jerked. "It's never _not_ worked."

"Angelic beings are not susceptible to the powers of your kind."

For a minute, it was all you could do to keep your mouth closed as you gawked. Then another hunger pain had you doubling over.

"Okay, bit of a shocker, you being a flyboy. Doesn't change things. You gotta let me go while I've still got control."

Slowly, his hands loosened and, like a shot, you were off again. You didn't have the luxury of being choosy.

You settled for a tall man with bulging muscles in a dark hoodie. His back smacked against the alley wall as you brought your mouth down on his. You took just enough to stave off the worst of the pain and then took a shaking step back. The fluttering sound came again.

There was a quiet whimper and then Cas spoke. "I do believe this one would fulfill your usual requirements."

You spun, taking in the pleading man. His fingers clawed at Cas' coat sleeve as he begged. "You're sure?" You could feel your hands shaking.

"He is not a righteous man." Cas responded.

You didn't need further conversation. In the next heartbeat, you were pressed against the man, breathing his life force deep. The pain subsided, disappeared. When you'd had enough, you pulled back and looked down at the grovelling bag of bones.

"You will no longer harm others and do evil. Swear it." The usual words flowed from your mouth easily. When he stammered out the necessary sounds you let him fall into a heap on the ground. "If I hear that you've broken your oath I will find you and finish what I started." With a deep breath, you turned toward Cas.

The angel's eyes were wide and bluer than you'd ever seen them before. "You are a most unusual creature, Y/N."

"So you've said." You walked past and leaned against a brick wall. "You'd better head back and check on Sam and Dean. They'll be super pissed when they wake up."

At Cas' look, you eyed your feet.

"Tell them that I'm sorry I had to mojo them. I really liked them, you know?" You grinned reluctantly. "They're pretty decent for hunters. I couldn't bear the thought of killing them."

"Y/N, I think you should come back with me."

Your head snapped up at Cas' words. "You're joking."

The angel frowned. "I am not. I believe Dean and Sam would benefit from someone like you working by their sides."

On a whim, you nodded. "All right, then. Back to the hunter's nest."

Cas stepped in close and grabbed a hold of your arm. "Be still." That was all the warning he gave you before the world jolted.

Suddenly, you were back inside the room with the large doors. Sam and Dean looked up at your arrival.

Dean rose to his feet and pointed a finger at you. " _You_!"

Your eyes narrowed. "You're alive. I'd be thanking me and your angel buddy."

Dean glanced over at Cas. "You helped her do the Jedi mind tricks?"

"No. I merely assured that she found nourishment."

You made a face. "And it wasn't like I commanded you to run around in panties or something, Dean. Which, I totally could." You reached out a hand playfully.

"You get your freaky hands away, woman." Dean jumped back.

Sam laughed softly. You shot a smile at him. "Sorry, dude. I didn't want to have to do any of that, but I was guessing that it was preferable to me sucking your life force out when I got hungry enough."

Sam grinned. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

Dean crossed his arms. "So you just back to apologize and sling pretty words?"

"Well," You hesitated, glancing at Cas.

The angel spoke. "Y/N is different than the other succubi and inccubi I've encountered. She uses her heritage for good, much as you do. I would like to have her join us."

"I totally get it if you say no, though." You put in.

Sam hesitated then nodded. "With your powers, we'd definitely have an advantage hunting."

Dean grunted his assent. "But no more touchy-feely, huh?"

You raised your hands, grinning. "Scout's honor, pretty boy."


	2. Chapter 2

The witch lunged for the altar, fingers grabbing at the athame there.

The metal glinted hungrily in the dim light. Dean barreled around the corner, gun raised and eyes scanning over the room. The witch's arm cocked back. With a cry, you flung yourself at the hunter.

There was a white-hot flare in your back beneath your shoulder-blade as you collided with Dean. The two of you smacked into the floor with a loud thud. You winced at the pain in your back as you rolled away, reaching backwards for the blade that had pierced your skin.

"Damn it, Winchester. It's been two weeks and I've already got a knife in the back." You managed to grab a hold of the blade.

There was a wet noise as you yanked it free of your flesh. The metal dripped with crimson.

Dean crouched, "That was a stupid move. You could've gotten yourself killed-"

You snorted, peeking around the couch. "I'm a big girl, Dean. I can take care of myself."

Another knife speared through the furniture's back and stuck an inch from your's and Dean's faces. Irritation and hunger mounted. The muscles in your body coiled as you let the hunger surface. You knew the exact moment when your eyes flickered as you bared your teeth. Dean's breath hitched and one of his hands reached out.

With an angry growl, you launched yourself at the witch. Your nails dug into skin as you took the male to the floor. He struggled wildly as you straddled his waist and pinned his shoulders to the floor. Your mouth came crashing down on his. After a moment, you pulled back. Blood trickled from the corner of your mouth and down your chin.

"Where is the book?" Your voice was a low, sensual hiss as you canted your head.

The witch babbled inanely, tears streaking his face as he begged to be spared. "P-please, I'll do anything, anything!"

You leaned close so that you were all he saw. "The. Book. Where."

"Inside th-the altar!"

You glanced at Dean over your shoulder. "Burn the altar."

The witch struggled valiantly, trying to stammer out some sort of spell. Again, you brought your head down. Energy, strong and powerful with a bitter edge, swirled through your veins. You could feel the witch's heartbeat galloping beneath your hands. His eyes bugged, vessels popping and filling his gaze with red. His fingers scrabbled against the floor.

Heat and light flared somewhere behind you. Smoke curled toward the rafters, long dark fingers reaching and fanning through the room.

The witch's heart finally gave out, stuttering to a halt as his skin folded tight to his bones. You pulled back with a gasp. The glass of the window before you reflected the growing flames of the fire that devoured the altar.

The image of a monster stared back as it crouched over the fallen witch. The skin around her mouth was marred and riddled with dark veins of blue, black, and red. Blood flecked and smeared her lips and cheeks and chin. Her eyes were filled with black except for the thin ring of color that were her irises. Her body was clothed in blood-splattered black, her curves creating a pleasing form even beneath the dark cloth. You were ensnared. The monster was you. You in all of your succubus glory; sated by the life energy of a victim and painted with streaks of their blood, eyes blazing with unholy light. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't look away.

Horror and disgust and shame became living, breathing entities the longer you stared into the glass. Something cool and wet slid down your cheeks as your breath stammered from between your lips.

A large hand came down over your eyes. The warm, roughened skin of the fingertips smoothed your eyelids shut and cupped over them as you were lifted to your feet and guided away. Cool air greeted you as a door was thrown wide. A hand gently pressed against your lower back as the hand over your eyes was lowered.

"Y/N, you good?" Dean's voice was low and hushed.

You kept your eyes closed for a moment longer, breathing deeply to help chase away the lingering effects of the aggressive feeding. The Impala's trunk closed with a loud noise.

You plastered a smirk over your lips as you blinked. "Dinner and a dance, you keep me spoiled, pretty boy."

Footsteps sounded on the pavement.

"Dean, Y/N, did you guys take care of the book?" Sam's towering frame appeared, followed closely by Castiel.

The fire glowed in the distance, flames licking up toward the dark sky. Smoke billowed upward in inky pillars. Dean leaned across the roof of the car, elbows braced at the edges.

"Yep. Y/N snacked on the witch, though."

Castiel glanced at you, frowning. "You seemed to be practicing restraint well during these last few hunts, Y/N."

Self-loathing and anger jelled in your veins as you gritted your teeth. "Kinda got pissed off. Taking a knife in the back ticked me off a little."

Sam made a noise, brows raising. "You-"

You crossed your arms and glared at the boys. "Can we get going? The fire department will show up soon, undoubtedly, and I'd rather not be seen wearing this season's blood spatter fashion."

Castiel's eyes narrowed before he nodded. "I will meet you back at the bunker."

Without another word, he vanished. Sam slid into the passenger seat as Dean started the car. You leaned your head against the window and shut your eyes as you eased down the road.

After a half-hour, Sam whispered your name and touched your knee. You remained still, keeping your breathing even and eyes closed. There was no way you were going to participate in story time with the Winchesters.

It was bad enough that Castiel had insisted on 'training' you and teaching the boys how to protect themselves from your 'wiles'...While he'd had all of you trapped in the bunker. You were a freak, even compared to others of your kind. They fed for pleasure, you fed for survival. You hunted only the dregs of the barrel instead of tasting the finest wines. You were the pet of the infamous Winchester boys, the object of Castiel's many chastisements and aggravations. He'd been the one to issue the invite, though. In fact, he'd insisted on it. Now, though, you were certain that the only thing they were keeping you around for was your usefullness during hunts. A succubus that kept company with those that she should have killed on sight was surely a freak.

Succubi and inccubi weren't supposed to be disgusted with what they were. They weren't supposed to be afraid to look in the mirror. They were supposed to be prideful seducers, unstoppable in their sexuality and charms. When your looked into mirrors, you had to prepare your mind in case you accidentally hypotized yourself. When you slept at night, your nightmares were of the things you'd done.

"Y/N?" Sam whispered again, a little louder. You remained quiet and still.

"She's out," Sam murmured. "What happened back there?"

The seat in front of you squeaked quietly as Dean shifted. "The witch tossed the ritual knife at me when I came around the corner. Y/N, she took me down to the floor and took the hit instead. Pulled the damn blade out by herself."

Well, _duh_. You weren't about to let Dean get killed by some pansy-ass witch. Even though the Winchester's concerns and attempts to draw you into their fold made you uncomfortable, you admired them as people. Especially Dean.

There was no way you would have let that knife touch him while you were around.

Sam cleared his throat and shifted. "Anything else?"

"She jumped that witch. Holy hell, she's scary when she's pissed. Remind me to never piss her off." The car turned, bumping over a pitted dirt road. "Nothing hotter than seeing her go after that witch, though. Until she zoned out, anyway."

Yeah, getting entranced by your own reflection wasn't exactly a _great_ attribute. The boys still found it amusing that your own reflection was one of your greatest weaknesses. It was so for all of your kind. And it wasn't really the physical image that captured and ensnared.

It was the power they possessed, it became reflected back. It was a failsafe. When a succubus or inccubus was in hell-spawn-mode and confronted with their own reflection, they became trapped in their own head; unable to continue feeding or even to move. All the kills, the feedings, they played like a film reel while they were stuck fast. Only the oldest and strongest of your kind had the power to break their own gaze. You'd been practicing with the help of the boys. So far, you'd only succeeded once. Every other time, one of the boys would have to cover your eyes and lead you away from the mirror. It was awful and embarrassing and the constant loop of your sins wore you down.

The Impala slowed. There was a series of loud metallic noises and then silence as the engine cut out.

"Y/N," Dean reached back and slapped your thigh.

You blinked your eyes open and feigned a yawn. The door opened under your hand with a quiet squeak. A smear of dark red smudged the seat where you'd leaned.

"Sorry, Dean. Got some blood on your seat again."

There came an irritated grumble, "Rags are over there."

After a few quick swipes, the blood was gone, soaked into the yellow rag. The bit of cloth made a soft swishing noise when it landed in the waste basket. You pulled your jacket off, groaning at the wide tear in the back. _Another jacket bites the dust_...

The boys were puttering around the kitchen area. The smell of food permeated the room. You wrinkled your nose and carried on down the hall to your room.

The little cubby-hole was pretty barren. Your clothes were stored neatly in a dresser, shoes lined beneath the desk. A tiny hand mirror laid face-down on the desk, surrounded by makeup cases and brushes. The bed was haphazardly made, black bedding rumpled and wrinkled and red and violet pillowcases creased. You kicked your boots off and undressed, dumping the clothes into the laundry basket in the corner before stepping into the shower.

Blood ran with the water, turning it pink. You wiped your makeup away and ducked beneath the spray, holding your breath until your lungs burned. You toweled off roughly. In a long black t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts, hair loose and drying around your shoulders, you made your way to wherever the boys were.

Voices carried from the kitchen still. You stopped at the corner, frowning.

Castiel's voice came. "But, has Y/N ever told you what happens when she becomes entranced?"

You pressed up against the wall.

Dean cleared his throat. "What do you mean, Cas? It's just some sort of reverse-magic thing, right?"

"When a succubus' or inccubus' feeding gaze is transferred upon themselves, they are forced to see inside themselves."

You _had_ to stop Cas before he went too far. You stepped around the corner and popped up onto the counter.

Dean's eyes immediately ran over your exposed legs and thighs, his throat working.

"Y/N," Castiel's greeting was a little curt as he frowned with disapproval. "I thought we discussed your choice in lack of dress."

You rolled your eyes and flexed your feet. "I'm never going to be a prude, Cas. That ship has sailed. Anyway," You pointed at yourself. "If you've got it, flaunt it."

The angel's frown deepened.

"Hey, Cas just mentioned something interesting." Sam piped up from the table.

_Oh, shit_. Not soon enough. "Did he?" You raised a brow.

"When you get stuck looking at yourself when you're in..."

"Hell-spawn-mode?" You prompted, trying to prepare possible answers.

Dean snorted out a laugh, tiny crinkles forming around his eyes. You shot him a smirk.

Sam smiled a little before pressing on. "If you want to call it that. Anyway, what happens? Cas said you see inside yourself. What does that mean?"

You swallowed hard and looked everywhere but at their eyes when you answered.

"My...sins. I see my sins."


	3. Chapter 3

There was a beat of silence in which Dean shifted at your side.

Castiel's coat fluttered quietly.

"Your sins?" Sam asked.

You swung your heels back, knocking them against the cabinets as you pushed a hand through your hair. "Yep. I become a captive audience of one as a home-made reel of my nasty deeds features in my head. It gets tedious, though. Don't even get popcorn."

"Every deed, every kill, Y/N has committed, she relives it." Castiel's continued narration had you glaring at him.

Dean's gaze swung to you. "All of them? Every single one?"

"All in HD," You clicked your tongue.

Sam leaned forward. "So, the only way to get out of the..."

"Loop?" You supplied, reaching into the cabinet behind you and pulling a bottle of whiskey free. The liquid burned as you swallowed.

Sam shrugged. "All right, the loop. The only way you get free is by breaking your gaze? That's why Cas has been training us?"

"Indeed," Castiel leaned away from the counter. "Most of her kind are unable to do just that, even the older ones I've met. I believed that she showed promise."

The glass bottle clinked as you set it beside your hip. "One gold star does not a genius make, flyboy."

Those blue eyes narrowed. "To have such control over how much you feed and to ultimately choose whom you feed from is something rare, unheard of in fact. To have broken your own gaze once, it stands to reason that you would be able to do so again. You would be a formidable weapon, Y/N, if only you strengthened your control-"

A veritable sea of emotion boiled within your body. The edge of the counter scraped at your skin.

You pointed a finger at the angel's chest as your eyes flickered. "Listen here. I am _not_ a weapon. Never have been. Never will be. I'm a monster with a conscience. Nothing more, nothing less. _Don't_ try to reshape me by jamming me into your hero-shaped cookie cutter."

With that, you snatched up the bottle of whiskey and stalked down the hall back to your room. The door slammed behind you, knocking loose a bit of plaster dust. The lock clicked and you flipped on your iPod before jamming in your earbuds.

 

When only inch of whiskey remained, there came a knock at the door.

Your thumb pressed the volume keys to drown out the rapping. The effort on behalf of the visitor only increased.

"Y/N, come on, I wanna talk to you." Dean's low voice issued from the other side of the door.

You pulled out an earbud. "Piss off." You called, taking another slug of the whiskey.

There was a minute of quiet cursing, then, "Do I have to pick the damn lock?"

"Piss. _Off_. Dean."

Something rattled in the lock and you yanked the other earbud out, preparing yourself for a chewing-out about how you'd yelled at his favorite angel. The door was pushed open and then closed.

Dean leaned against the surface. His jeans were frayed and his t-shirt had the beginnings of a hole in the hem. The lack of a flannel or overshirt caught you off-guard. The hunter always wore layers. Always. His body, even cluttered with those layers, was a sight for sore eyes. But this...

You shook your head hard and polished off the bottle, slamming it down on the nightstand.

"You drank that whole thing?"

You snorted, sprawling out on the bed and switching your gaze to the ceiling. "Couldn't get the ashy taste of the witch outta my mouth. Whiskey makes a good mouth wash."

The chair from the desk scraped over the floor. Dean settled into it, chair back against his chest and arms crossed over the top. "That all you're drinkin' it for?"

You narrowed your eyes. "What're you, Doctor Phil?"

A tiny smile lifted one side of his mouth, the movement didn't reach his eyes, though. "Far from it." He took a deep breath, one brow raising. "It's pretty rare to see someone suck a whole bottle down without a reason, though."

"You wanna have a slumber party, Dean? You can braid my hair while I paint your toes and we share our feelings."

"You're so goddamn stubborn."

"Don't I know it." You rolled over onto your belly and studied the hunter.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Listen, I'm kinda an expert on this kind of stuff-"

"What? Harboring sins that'd even make an entire nunnery withhold forgiveness? Yeah. I bet." You shook your head.

His jaw clenched and his head bowed before he looked back up. "I've died before."

"What?" That brought your thought train to a screeching halt. You blinked, trying to recover. "Bet heaven was nice. All the angels dicks like Cas?"

There was that meaningless smile again. "Cas...Cas isn't half as bad as the others. And, for the record, heaven kinda sucked. Hell...Hell was worse, though."

"But, you-" You frowned. "You _save_ people."

Dean shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. "I made a deal with a crossroads demon to save Sam. One year in exchange for Sam's life. Time clocked ticked down and down I went."

You could see there was more that he was keeping tucked away inside of himself. His eyes were glazed with all sorts of ragged, raw emotions. The feelings practically oozed out of his pores. You could taste the guilt, anger, and sorrow.

"I, ah, I did some really bad stuff while I was in the sauna. Really bad. I became something that I would have hunted down."

You reached out a hand. "Dean-"

He raised a finger to ward off your touch. "It's been years. I came back, did some more things that don't make it easier to sleep at night. Anyway, I was going somewhere with this. Yeah. I know what you've got rattling around inside your head, Y/N. I get it. You wanna talk or whatever, fight, get it out of your system for a while...I'm here."

Slowly, you sat up, curling your knees to your chest. "I was...I was eighteen. The changes had started the years before then. Slow, little things at first. Soon I couldn't keep food down. My body was healthy, though, according to the neighborhood doc. But I always so hungry, so hungry. One day, the football team's captain pulled me under the bleachers for a little frisking. When I came to he was dead."

You shrugged your shoulders. "I was on the run since then. I killed those first few years. I had no idea what I was doing. Once in a while I'd run into one of my kind or another monster. I'd get information through...Favors. Anyway. After a few years, I figured out I could skim off energy instead of sucking dry. From there, it was all hunting scumbags."

Dean leaned forward against the back of the chair. "So when you get stuck in your head...?"

"Every murder, every 'favor', I get a front-row seat as they loop over and over and over."

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. "That's pretty rough."

You snorted and knocked a knuckle against his arm. "Not as rough as hell, I'd bet. How about we stow our crap and make out?"

This time the smile reached his eyes. The green rings of his irises twinkled in the light as his teeth flashed.

"Wouldn't it be like making out with a great white?"

You laughed, "You're not wrong. But I've had my fill of go-juice for at least a few days."

Was he actually taking you seriously?

With a shrug, you uncurled from your position and stretched your legs out. Dean's throat worked as his eyes traveled over the skin of your thighs.

"I've got a pocket mirror on the nightstand if you're feeling brave, pretty boy."

Was he really going to do this?

Dean moved from his chair and settled his hands to either side of your hips as he leaned in close. His breath tickled your face, warm and minty with the faint bite of alcohol. Your heart seemed to stop.

His lips pressed to your's, soft and warm. He made a noise in the back of his throat as he parted your lips with his and licked at your lower lip. Your tongues tangled as he slowly took you down onto the mattress.

 _Holy shit_. This was happening.

With a quick move, you straddled his hips as you pressed him back into the sheets. Your hands smoothed over the soft fabric of his shirt. Being the top was your thing, instinctually. It just was. But deep down, in a tiny little dark corner of yourself, you wondered what it would be like to be different. Maybe Dean would be strong enough...

You ground your hips down over his, sighing at the blissful friction. You could feel him behind the denim of his jeans. And gods help you if that didn't rev you even more. With a toss of your head you removed your t-shirt and tossed it somewhere behind the bed. Dean's eyes went dark as his pupils gobbled up those pretty green irises. His hands, roughened from all those years of being wrapped around weapons, wandered up to your ribs.

With a growl and a sudden lunge, the world spun. Your head thudded against the pillow as your back met the sheets. Dean came down over you, lips crashing down in an almost bruising kiss. Teeth nipped at your lower lip before his tongue crept out to soothe the little sting. Those hands left your ribs to pin your arms over your head.

Good gods, he was really doing this.

Hot lips pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Your head was spinning from it all. This...This was different. You couldn't bring yourself to over-power him. This... _Oh gods, this_.

Dean took a nipple into his mouth and your back arched off of the bed as you gasped. The heated suction had you moaning as your head tossed on the pillow. Your legs twisted against his.

With a wet pop, Dean switched his mouth to your other breast as one hand skimmed down your belly. His palm flattened over your lower stomach as his fingers teased at the skin. His pinkie dipped beneath the edge of your panties. With a growl, you bucked your hips up, succeeding in driving his hand a little farther under the flimsy fabric. Not far enough, though. Dean chuckled, leaving your breast for another hot kiss.

" _Touch_ me, Dean." It was a plea and a threat as your arms tensed beneath his hold.

"Or what?" His voice was low and husky as he quirked a brow.

His hand pushed a little farther into your panties. One finger teased the top of your sex.

"Or I'll touch you and both of us won't last much long past that."

Dean's body trembled minutely as his lips moved to your ear. Hot breath gusted over the sensitive skin there. "Promise?"

The last of your control snapped.

With a growl, you wrapped your thighs around his hips and rolled. You yanked your panties off and pulled at his jeans. And then, you rocked your hips over his. The two of you groaned at the exquisite sensation.

 _Good lord_.

It'd been so, so long since you'd had anything like this. He felt so good; stretching you perfectly. And that was before you began moving.

Dean arched beneath you, muscles rippling as his hands wandered up your body. His skin slicked with a fine sheen of sweat. His lips were reddened and parted as his eyes gleamed in the low light. Harder, faster, you ground yourself down and against him.

Breath bounced off the walls. The sounds of your moans and gasps mixed with his wild pants and groans. Your hands laid over his thighs as you craned you head back. You could feel your pleasure and his building, building. You wanted... _Needed_ -

Dean rose up, hands palming your head and spine as his lips crashed against your's. Teeth banged together as tongues tangled. Just like that, stars exploded behind your closed eyes. With a sharp cry, you convulsed, orgasming wildly. Dean's body bucked as he groaned. His fingers dug into your skin, leaving the dull burn of bruises.

After a moment, the bliss faded enough for the two of you to collapse into the mattress. Dean threw the quilt to the side and drew the sheets up over your entangled, sweat-slicked limbs. His chest heaved beneath your ear, heartbeat thundering.

He gave a low chuckle. "Holy. Hell."


End file.
